


Interrogation Techniques

by fredbassett



Series: Stephen/Ryan series [26]
Category: Primeval
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 13:06:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/662323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fredbassett/pseuds/fredbassett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Helen gets the drop on Ryan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interrogation Techniques

Location : Somewhere in the Home Counties.

Ryan gave his restraints an experimental tug. The plastic cable ties bit sharply into his wrists and the only thing that suffered was his own flesh.

For what was probably the hundredth time in a very short period, he cursed his own stupidity.

Following Helen Cutter into the disused warehouse without back-up hadn’t been one of his brightest ideas, but to be fair he hadn’t expected the sodding woman to have gone to the trouble of constructing a cleverly concealed pitfall into the basement.

He’d dropped heavily and knocked himself out. Only to come round just as she’d finished stringing him up like a side of beef in a butchers shop. But at least she’d left his clothes on.

His ankles and wrists were both firmly secured to what felt like iron hoops set in the wall. Legs splayed just far enough to be out of balance, wrists dragged higher than was comfortable.

He did his best to relax the muscles in his shoulders but it wasn’t easy. He’d give it less than fifteen minutes before this position started to fucking hurt.

“They’ll find me soon, you know that, don’t you?”

Helen looked at him like she might look at a particularly uninteresting fossil, then went back to rummaging in her ever-present rucksack. A minute later, she found, then ate a chocolate bar, paying more attention to it than she’d paid to Ryan.

The Special Forces captain sighed. He’d been trained to play the same games.

It was bloody annoying that he’d let the damned woman get the drop on him. And it was soon going to be bloody painful, but he’d rather not think about that right now.

Helen Cutter finished the chocolate and ran her tongue round her lips, catching any stray fragments with obvious relish.

“So, is Stephen a good lover, Captain?” 

Shrugging was hardly an option in his current position, so Ryan opted for ignoring her instead.

One thing Helen Cutter did not like was being ignored.

As lithe and predatory as a hunting cat, the woman got up from a stack of pallets that formed a makeshift seat and stalked over to the bound man.

Ryan kept his grey eyes fixed on her and did his best not to jerk his head back when she reached out a finger and ran it down the line of his jaw.

“Designer stubble?”

“Got up in a hurry.”

“Because you’d had a report that I’d been picked up by a CCTV camera on campus?”

He went back to ignoring her.

Without warning, she slapped his face.

Hard.

He tasted blood inside his mouth. His lip had been driven against a tooth.

She hit like a bloke. Back-handed. And she was strong.

He opened his mouth to compliment her, but the sane part of his brain decided against it.

He was tied up. She was annoyed. It was a bad combination. And whilst he’d been tortured by professionals in the past, he also knew to his cost that amateurs could hurt you just as much and he had a nasty suspicion that Helen Cutter could be quite inventive if she put her mind to it.

“I want to know where Lester has his spies.”

“What makes you think he tells me things like that?”

She hit him again.

“I’ll use an interrogation cliché just this once, Captain, then I’ll expect you to play the game by its rules. Don’t answer a question with a question. Got that?”

This time he’d been expecting the blow and rolled his head with it, but just for effect he spat out the mouthful of blood he’d been saving. It made a bright red splatter on the dirty grey concrete floor.

He very much doubted that she’d do him serious damage. She was dangerous and unpredictable, but he didn’t think she was a sadist. Although he’d rather not lose a tooth finding out.

Helen reached up again and this time stroked her hand down his neck.

The collar of his combat jacket prevented her trailing fingers from dipping lower and to Ryan’s surprise and mild discomfiture, she unzipped his tac vest then started on the fastenings of the jacket, pushing it back, allowing her hand to track along his collarbone and then over to his shoulder.

She smiled in approval at the feel of the taught muscles and over-stretched tendons in his upper arm.

Helen Cutter was the first woman to touch him this intimately since he’d split up with his wife.

He wasn’t enjoying the experience. It was bringing back far too many memories that he’d rather leave safely buried.

On balance, he preferred Helen when she was hitting him, and like a fool, he let that show in his face.

And she noticed.

A finger made its way back up his neck and tickled lightly behind his ear, then she rubbed the lobe gently between finger and thumb. The same way Hart always did when they were snuggled up alone after a bad run-in with some prehistoric nasty or another. Ryan liked settling down with his head cradled in Hart’s lap, letting clever, long-fingered hands smooth away pain and tension, touching him in all the places he liked to be touched. Behind his ears. Down his neck. Along the line of his jaw.

All the sodding places she was touching him now. And his damned body was starting to react.

“Do you get off on the whole bondage thing, Mrs Cutter?” He needed a distraction, and he needed it now. “Kermit thought so, that’s for sure.” By way of an answer, she pinched his ear so hard that he felt the skin split. “You need to cut your nails, lady.”

She raked sharply downwards with her thumb nail, opening up the split and it hurt enough to make him draw in his next breath more sharply than he’d intended.

OK, maybe she did like hurting people. Perhaps it was time he cut the snarky comments and went back to his strong, silent routine.

“Just tell me where Lester’s spies are lurking, Captain. That’s all I want to know.”

Ryan laughed. “I. Don’t. Know. Got that? Now I know you’re not going to believe me, so you can either hit me, or cut my ear up a bit more, or try something new. Your call.”

Oh shit. What was it about this bloody woman that made him want to get smart-mouthed?

A cool hand pushed its way up under his black tee shirt, slowly and deliberately, pressing into the muscles of his stomach.

He tensed, and she smiled.

“Very toned, Ryan. How many sit ups a day do muscles like that take to maintain?”

That was an easy one. “Two hundred.”

The hand slid higher and her fingers carefully circled a nipple. He liked it when Hart did that.

His cock gave a slight twitch and he hoped she hadn’t noticed. This was not good. And even worse was the fact that interspersed with memories of Stephen’s touch he kept getting images of his ex-wife.

Helen’s resemblance to her was just too marked for comfort. They were both a pair of prize bitches. They’d sweep the board between them at Crufts.

Memories crowded back, more painful even than the cut in his ear.

Sharp shrew-eyes. Honey blonde hair. A figure that wouldn’t be out of place on a film set. And a tongue that had been honed on a whetstone somewhere in Hell.

In the latter stages of his marriage, he’d started to expect her tongue develop a fork and flicker like a snake’s when she was yelling at him. The trouble was, when she’d stopped yelling, he’d always been so anxious to placate her that he’d been willing to do anything, even if it meant going through the dreaded kiss-and-make-up routine.

And he’d continued to have sex with her when she wanted it, long after the point when he’d stopped fancying her. Anything so that she wouldn’t have the excuse she so obviously craved to take his daughter away. Fat lot of good that did him in the end, although he’d become very practised at performing to order.

Gentle rubbing turned into another hard pinch. A nail sliced into his nipple and just for a second, his reactions got confused and his hips jerked upwards.

A slow smile spread over Helen’s sun-tanned face. “I thought you weren’t paying attention for a minute there, Captain. The only question is, were you thinking about my ex-boyfriend or your ex-wife?”

Ryan opened his mouth to demand what she knew about his failed marriage, then thought better of it. But a small, ice cold kernel of unease settled into the pit of his stomach.

If she knew about Mandy, sorry, Amanda, that meant she also knew about his daughter, and that wasn’t a thought Ryan was comfortable with.

“Remember the question, Ryan?” Her fingers tracked over to his other nipple and she started rubbing again.

Bugger, he really didn’t fancy two pierced nipples. The first one was hurting enough.

“You want to know where Sir James Lester keeps his surveillance teams.”

“Good boy.” The questing hand trailed lower, down his chest, over his stomach and to the top of his trousers. His belt was drawn too tightly for her to get a hand down from the top, but that didn’t stop her. With complete nonchalance, she unzipped his fly and slipped a hand inside, pushing past his pants to rest directly on flesh. “Now, here was me thinking you lot always went commando.”

He sighed and did his best not to give her the satisfaction of trying to draw away. “I’m Special Forces not the bloody marines.”

“You’re also my ex-boyfriend’s lover, which is an interesting concept in itself, Captain Ryan. Have you fucked Nick as well, by the way?”

The abrupt change of subject came as her hand slipped round his limp cock and started to pull. That did make him draw back and the cable ties bit fiercely into his wrists.

Then he felt himself starting to get hard, and to his horror, a hot flush crept inexorably upwards from his neck.

Helen laughed in delight. “You’re blushing, Ryan! How wonderful. It wasn’t the thought of fucking Nick that did it, was it?”

“I’d have to fight Claudia for him,” said Ryan, twisting at the wrist restraints again. The second the words left his lips he knew he’d made a mistake.

Helen’s eyes narrowed and her hand tightened its grip.

“I should have left her to the anurognathus. So, he’s sleeping with her now, is he?”

“I’m not sure how much sleeping they do,” said Ryan, with perfect truth. Actually, he wasn’t even sure whether they really were fucking or not, but he couldn’t stop himself trying to wind the cow up. This was turning into a grudge match.

She started to run her fingers up and down his thickening cock in a way that began to draw a reaction, no matter how much he tried to squirm away. And ever time he squirmed, the plastic around his wrists dug deeper into his flesh.

Using pain as a distraction was the oldest trick in the book. Anyone who’d ever seen the Ipcress File knew that. So why the hell wasn’t it working for him?

The cable ties had cut through his skin now, and every time he tensed and pulled against the thin, sharp plastic straps, they dragged further and further into his flesh. Both wrists were badly cut and bloodied, but it still wasn’t fucking working!

He was fully hard now, much to her obvious amusement, and even worse, his face was flaming like he’d been out in the sun too long. And he didn’t know which was more embarrassing, the unwelcome erection or the unlikely blush.

Oh shit! Hart, Ditzy, where the fuck are you, guys? Take your bloody time, why don’t you? I thought you were meant to be a tracker, Hart? So fucking track, damn you, and do it quicker!

The pressure from her hand increased and she ran her thumb experimentally over the tip of his cock. It twitched obediently.

He closed his eyes and then she really did laugh.

“You’re acting like a virgin on a first date, Ryan. Did you close your eyes the first time a girl jerked you off? Or was it a boy?”

It was a girl, and yes, I did, actually. But it was a long time ago.

Her fingers continued to stroke and tease and he continued to grind his wrists against the plastic.

The damned woman was too bloody clever to give him any of the openings he needed. She wasn’t stupid enough to come in range of a head-butt, and she certainly wasn’t stupid enough to try and kiss him. Which was shame. It’d be worth losing a tooth if he got the chance to bite her first.

A grain of common-sense in his brain made a heroic effort to assert itself and told him in no uncertain terms to stop inflicting pointless damage on his wrists.

Len Deighton’s unnamed hero had been working his wrists against wide leather straps, not thin plastic. If he wasn’t careful, he’d sever a major blood vessel, and that wouldn’t be big and it wouldn’t be clever. It’d just be messy and stupid.

With an effort of will that made him sweat even more than Helen’s attentions, he stropped twisting. Somewhat to his surprise, the feeling in his groin immediately became less intense.

This time his shaky laugh just left her looking puzzled.

Christ, Ryan, your pleasure-pain reactions really are more fucked up that you realised, aren’t they?

His cock was inclined to agree with him. But the irritating body part still craved the sensations she’d been inflicting on it.

He was really starting to hate Helen Cutter.

“I rather think we’re getting away from the purpose of this dialogue, Captain. Now, about Lester’s spies ……..”

Her grip tightened painfully, she started to apply her nails as well and his stupid cock started cooperating again. Jesus H. Christ. If you couldn’t trust your own body in this job what could you trust?

His hips started to move of their own volition and almost automatically he dragged down on the cable ties, tearing them cruelly into the raw, ragged flesh of his wrists. Shit, shit, shit! When would he learn? That only made things down below worse.

“I’ll stop if you tell me what I want to know, Captain.”

“One of the three great lies,” muttered Ryan, through clenched teeth.

She eased up on the nails for a moment and concentrated on making small, circular movements around the head of his cock. Just a shade too light for his taste and the imminent threat of orgasm receded, just a fraction.

“And the other two are …….?”

“Cheque’s in the post.”

“Obvious. And …….?”

“I won’t come in your mouth.”

That was another mistake, but in fairness, on this occasion, he didn’t think she’d intended to actually draw blood. Not from him, at least. But the end result was the same, and the involuntary thrust he made into her hand in response was damn nearly his last.

“You won’t get the chance, Ryan,” she hissed, as the resemblance to his ex-wife reached an all-time high.

“From what I hear, neither will anyone else……..”

OK, even his pleasure-pain receptors weren’t that fucked up, which in a perverse sort of way, he was pleased about. And this time, he knew the use of nails was deliberate.

“My ex-boyfriend likes to kiss and tell, does he? The little shit. So what else has he told you?”

Ryan smiled and said nothing.

Helen’s expression was an unattractive mix of curiosity and vindictiveness. Her hand slid up and down, slick and warm and he wasn’t entirely sure which of his bodily fluids were acting as lubricant at the moment.

He chewed the split on the inside of his lip. Even he didn’t react sexually to pain from something that felt like the world’s biggest mouth ulcer.

The threat of orgasm receded again.

He chewed a bit harder, just to make sure.

The look on her face didn’t bode well for him.

Determination settled comfortably onto her sharp features. It clearly felt at home there.

“I’m beginning to think you might be telling the truth, Captain Ryan. And even if you did tell me what I want to know, all that little slime-ball Lester would have to do would be to change his tactics. So maybe I’m wasting my time.”

“Far be it from me to disagree. So are you going to let me go?”

Her hand moved faster, friction building over the stinging cuts left by her nails and causing a tell-tale tightening in his balls.

“No, I’m going to be spiteful and make you come anyway.”

“Fuck you,” spat Ryan, still mentally cursing both Hart and his team from here to the furthest corner of hell for taking so sodding long to find him.

Blood flecks hit Helen’s face.

She used a handkerchief to wipe them away, without once interrupting the movement of her right hand. “That was a mistake, Captain Ryan.”

Her fingers moved faster and his hips took on a life of their own and started to thrust into her grip.

He’d last about another thirty seconds at this rate.

Fingers brushed across his balls and he mentally revised the time-estimate downwards.

Involuntarily, his eyes closed, and she gave a low chuckle.

She leant in close enough for him to feel her breath on his ripped ear lobe. “Come for me, Ryan. You know you want to.”

And he did want to.

And afterwards he was going to hate himself as well as her.

Hart, get your fucking ass down here and do something useful before I go off sex for life!

With a groan, he started thrusting faster.

Her voice was husky with the promise of pleasure, “Come for me, Ryan. Come for me, Tom.”

He opened his eyes.

And she couldn’t work out why his hips abruptly stopped moving. Or why his cock started to deflate like a balloon with a slow puncture.

But she knew with the absolute certainty of someone who was now in a terminally bad mood that no matter what had just happened, he hadn’t come.

Her head whipped round and it was obvious she’d just heard something.

Oh well done, guys, back to Sneak School for you lot! Stupid bastards! She’s going to get away.

Just as Helen slipped through the door on the far side of the room, she turned back and the smile on her thin lips radiated malice.

“I’m starting to feel sorry for your ex-wife, Ryan. She must have had a lot to put up with from you. So I’ll do her a favour. Tell her from me to take the kid and move to somewhere safer.”

With that she was gone, no more than thirty seconds before Ditzy and Hart came crashing in through the other door.

But her laughter still echoed in his ears, and her parting words burnt a hole in his guts.

 

Location : Stephen Hart’s flat.

Ryan’s head was pillowed on Stephen’s lap, torn ear uppermost.

His wrists were now neatly bandaged, thanks to Ditzy.

To his amazement, the medic had refrained for his customary sarcasm even while dressing the cuts on both nipples. He hadn’t realised the guy had so much self-control. But even so, he hadn’t told him about the damage elsewhere.

The other cuts had certainly made the blowjob Hart had just given him trickier than usual, but he’d finally reached a particularly shattering climax in the younger man’s willing mouth.

With small aftershocks still travelling up his spine, Ryan looked at his lover, pupils dilated so far that his grey eyes appeared almost black. 

“Hart, just one thing. Don’t ever use my first name when we’re fucking, OK?”

Stephen looked puzzled. “Ryan, I don’t even know your first name.”

Ryan gave him a tired grin followed by a deep, lazy kiss.

“Good, let’s keep it that way, darling.” In response to the other man’s raised eyebrows, he added, “My wife used to use it a lot when she was bitching at me. It reminds me of her.”

And now not just her.

Oh, and you’ve just managed to make this whole damned thing personal, Mrs Cutter, I want you to know that and believe me, that was a very bad mistake …………Nobody threatens my kid. Nobody.

You’ll tell me what I want to know, next time we meet. Trust me on that.


End file.
